


Messing With (The Beat Of) My Heart

by sharkdolphin



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Falling In Love, Grey-Asexuality, Introverts in Love, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Queerplatonic relationship, The Miracle era, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkdolphin/pseuds/sharkdolphin
Summary: QuoisexualitynounBeing unable to distinguish sexual attraction from other types of attraction; alternatively, being unable to define sexual attraction and so unable to say whether or not one experiences it.akaYou find it difficult to name your feelings for John, but find it easy to lose track of time when it’s spent with him.





	Messing With (The Beat Of) My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, what a spur-of-the-moment and self-indulgent thing. I was procrastinating work by watching the MV for Breakthru, and then inspiration struck and motivated me to type this in one sitting! There’s a queerplatonic DD/lg dynamic hinted at in there if you really squint, but it’s vague. 
> 
> Title is from the lyrics of Cool Cat by Queen, although the parentheses are my pretentious addition.

“Oh, the few gigs we played here were all close to the campus town,” John gestured vaguely at the horizon on his left, in the direction of a faraway urban area, past the faded brick arches that made up the railway. “Nowhere as scenic and, you know, as proper ‘countryside’ as this place.”

While walking back to his trailer, you had struck up a conversation asking about the first band John had played in and toured with before Queen, having only heard a few throwaway lines from him about them prior. Seeing that you had finished assisting with equipment logistics for the day, he’d invited you over for a drink, though even if you didn’t end up drinking you would always enjoy his company. You weren’t being selfish or greedy, since he seemed to enjoy your company too, right?

“This countryside is so archetypal too, in a National Geographic kind of way,” you agreed. Small rivers braided through pastures and farmlands, and occasionally convened in picturesque lakes. It was common knowledge that you appreciated nature, and would often start or end the day by relaxing outdoors.

Indeed, the surroundings were what you had spent the second longest amount of time admiring. You remembered it was there when you were in the presence of others and didn’t dare steal glances at John all the time.

(Tucked smartly into his slim-cut jeans was a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the light dusting of hair on his forearms and a few subtly protruding veins. An intense wave of arousal curled through your body and settled as a deliciously tight coil in your belly.

His playful answering smile was no different from usual, so you weren’t sure if he’d caught you ogling, but you were furiously blushing nevertheless, and avoided meeting his eyes. _Shit shit shit, quick, stare at everything and everyone else until my cheeks stop burning_, you commanded yourself.)

The two of you had spent the previous evening watching the sun set over the rolling hills of Cambridgeshire, having cheekily bailed on the impromptu mass combined-dinner initiated by the rest of the band, to bond over the mutual understanding of how tiring it can be to split your attention between multiple strangers or acquaintances at social gatherings, knowing full well most people in such situations were only meaning to make small talk, and why can’t more people learn to be together without always feeling like they needed things to say?

Because that’s what you two did: inadvertently find yourselves alone together and spend about half of it in companionable silence, when not confiding heartfelt thoughts and worries to each other, or laughing over silly and trivial things.

(“So, you’re bailing on dinner because the percentage of familiar faces there is less than your threshold fifty percent?”

“Yes... Well, yes there aren’t that many familiar faces around.” He chuckled at you quantifying his reasoning into a threshold value.

“You haven’t worked with this film crew or music crew before?”

“Not with most of them, no. Not everyone can be like you and seamlessly transition from our exciting tour phases to our boring studio phases and still stick around, you know,” he laughed. It made the laughter lines by his eyes deepen even more, cheeks pulled taut and lips breaking into a grin so devastatingly gorgeous that—who could blame you for feeling a little short of breath?)

* * *

Both of you arrived outside his trailer and found his Fender in its case leant steadily against the door, delivered earlier by a runner after principle photography for the music video had wrapped up. John took the case and held the door open for you as you stepped inside.

His other belongings were already more or less packed for moving out tomorrow morning. The film set would be disassembled, and all full-time staff involved in the recording process would be free to go their separate ways for exactly two weeks’ of break time, before reconvening at a studio, either one of the London ones or the Montreux one, depending on some last-minute decisions. Regardless, you would be called back to work and get to see John in the studio, but not for another few weeks.

If your BA (Hons) in Theatre Studies and your penchant for comfy androgynous clothes had prepared you for anything, it definitely included scurrying around backstage in all black as part of an ad hoc Lighting crew.

You couldn’t have asked for a better first full-time job than being a part of the few larger shows of Queen’s Magic tour, so when a job offer came eighteen months later to work in the Audio department at the band’s London studio, you found it a natural progression of things to accept it. The greatly reduced staff size had allowed you to concentrate your time on strengthening your friendships with just a core group of people: the band, their assistants, the manager Mr Beach, and the small team of fellow technicians you were thankful you got along well with.

What exhilarated you the most, of course, was how you and John had gotten to know each other that much better. You were soon picking up all the inside jokes he had with what you knew were a privileged few he felt comfortable enough to fully loosen up around.

The months of your growing friendship had also been coaxing your crush on John into a roaring fire of something deeper. Previously, you had determinedly resigned yourself to pining from a safe distance, but then advancing from ‘work acquaintances’ to ‘friends’ to ‘good friends’ made you discover how unexpectedly tactile he was in showing affection, and all your determination evapourated.

He would give you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the thigh when laughing uproariously at something particularly hilarious, a welcome and goodbye hug when you knew you wouldn’t see each other for days.

He even gave you a peck on the cheek sometimes. In fact, it’d happened seven times in total on seven different occasions, always during or right after spending time alone together. Not that you were painstakingly keeping track.

You were certain the kisses were a particular quirk of the relationship between you and him, even more special than his other forms of touch. They were simple yet exquisite, chaste yet breathtakingly intimate. It made you wonder if the phrase “hopelessly in love” suited you. Was it too dramatic, or not dramatic enough?

* * *

(For some reason, memories of all those kisses had been replaying themselves in your head yesterday, even as you carried out your work with practiced indifference.

Today, you willingly swopped seats with your crew mate at lunch so you didn’t have to sit at John’s table, because you were replaying those memories in your head practically every other waking moment.)

* * *

You seated yourself on his bed since there was no chair in the room—he had lent the only chair in his trailer to one of the road crew, whom he’d overheard yesterday complaining about how the staff accommodation had no desks, only nightstands too tiny to fit all his SLR lenses on.

John’s traveling case lay unzipped but closed, next to a desk where miscellaneous cables and adapters loaned from the Logistics department were bundled up. A Leica and a Canon sat on the desk too—John’s personal cameras. The instrument case was carefully placed beside the traveling case on the floor. You watched the graceful way he moved around the room, how his thigh muscles shifted under the denim.

“I’m already quite prepared with my things, so there’s no need for packing this evening,” he said, following your train of thought—the earlier part of it. He had a gentle smile on his face as he turned back to face you, either unconcerned with how uncharacteristically awkward you were…or not surprised by it.

You gulped and willed your blush to go away. Why did you think spending time alone with John would be a good idea when you were presently so overwhelmed with your attraction towards him? Something about these two days had you feeling, well, _whatever it was_ you were always feeling around him, just more intensely than before.

Yeah, alright, convincing yourself that you just wanted to hang out was a bad idea, also _ohmygod he had unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt since leaving set earlier_ and you could see chest hair trailing down from the base of his throat, and the tightly coiled warmth that had been idling in you immediately roared to life again, flooding you with heat that felt so intense, your cheeks felt cold rather than hot.

If you weren’t so caught up in your slightly indecent daydreaming you would have started chatting by now, so John was definitely taking note of how silent you were.

“You seem a tad worked up, love, do you need to do something to relax?” he joked, moving towards the bed. The endearment and his tone of voice meant he was suggesting a cuddling session. It was one of those things you had when either of you thought the other needed it, embracing for a good few minutes and sometimes trading brief kisses. It was how he’d given you five out of the seven kisses, and how you gave him all the three kisses you had given him so far.

John was now standing in front of you, close enough to cradle your head against his chest if he wanted. Hugging like this would always leave you feeling lightheaded with joy, and deep down you knew this was exactly what you were desperately wishing for when you agreed to that drink earlier on.

“Yeah, guess I do.” Your chuckle sounded forced even to yourself, your breathing had become too shallow for you to act normally. Though you weren’t looking him in the eyes, your gaze landed on the crows feet at their corners, and the streaks of greying hair at his temple. You never found grey hair intrinsically attractive, but my god it looked _so good_ on him—

“I really enjoyed spending yesterday’s dinnertime with you, rather than alone.” He spoke softly, leaning down. You looked up at him. His smile was teasing but you knew his words were utterly sincere.

Sometimes you would fight down an embarrassed smile when he thanked or praised you, but now you didn’t.

“I enjoy it too,” you whispered, using the present tense to refer to this moment, this precious, electrifying moment that had your poor heart thumping so forcefully inside your poor ribcage you could feel it all the way in your eardrums.

You allowed your eyes to flutter close as he cupped one side of your face with his hand and closed the remaining distance.

Eight. This was the eighth kiss. Wait, nine, he’s kissing you again on your other cheek. You drew a sharp intake of breath. The kiss felt more lingering and charged.

It was at that moment you knew you were finally going to kiss on the lips for the first time, and in that instance all your nerves, anxieties, and flustered disbelief, disappeared.

You didn’t know who it was who moved in, but soon your lips were meeting his. It was slow, and tender, and infinitely better than anything your brain could have come up with whenever you let your daydreams wander.

You broke apart a little to catch your breaths, before your lips met again. You were distantly aware of him sitting down on the bed, and moving you onto his lap. Your hands found his shoulders and were holding on to them.

You exchanged a few more languid kisses before breaking apart again, but you were still close enough for your breaths to mingle.

The wave of heat flooding through you was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. It had spread from your belly through your entire body.

“All good?” John questioned, forehead resting against yours. He was gently bumping his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you managed, shyly nodding an affirmative, knowing if you spoke you’d sound breathless and that’d be embarrassing. That forethought was the extent of your functioning mind right now. You would gladly be held like this for hours.

You could feel John’s smile against your cheek. He started nuzzling your cheekbone with the bridge of his nose, trailing it softly towards your earlobe, before following the trail with light kisses. The sweetness and intimacy of the gesture made your heart ache.

The two of you stayed wrapped in each other for a while, with John humming contentedly as you rested your face against the curve of his neck. The kissing and nuzzling had settled the heated rush of feelings into a soothing burn, one that felt calmer, but still burned in an absolutely delicious manner.

You knew if he asked you to stay the night here, it would mean sharing his bed. When he eventually tilted his head back to look at you with a questioning smile, you answered, “I’ll just have to head back to my bunk for a bit, be back after a shower.”

* * *

As you both settled in for the night, you found conversation as easily as any other time. Your individual schedules for the next few days were discussed.

“Ugh, I have my things packed but I’m sure most of Lighting and Sound still haven’t, which means I’ll be obliged to help with general logistics early tomorrow morning,” you mused. “Although when I get home, I’ll probably start packing what I need for the studio next month, since I’d still be in my ‘organisational mode’, before I fall into my ‘holiday mode’ and procrastinate it.”

(You were already in the process of storing all of tonight’s memories into the most secure treasure chest you had in your brain, and were going to obsessively guard it and curl yourself around it during the weeks of break.)

“You haven’t been to Switzerland before, have you?”

“Nope, I haven’t. Britain and Hungary are the extent of my temperate climate experience, remember?” You replied, anticipating where this line of questioning was going.

“Hmm. Perhaps you should start your organising, then, by ensuring you have enough winter clothes, because I can safely say that we’ll be spending the months after this break working at Mountain Studio, and it’s going to be quite cold.”

“Oh. That’s exciting to hear!” This information would probably take days to be passed down to all the staff involved otherwise. A sense of exclusivity made you glow a little with pride.

Plus, you had been hoping to finally visit the band’s fabled studio-in-the-Alps forever. Hiking through the deciduous forests on your off days would be a dream come true.

“Probably already thinking of where to take a trek through the mountains and forests, hmm?” John chuckled. You smiled and nodded your agreement.

(You definitely didn’t consider that one time you invited him on a day-long trek through Epping forest, where he was greatly impressed by your botanical and geographical knowledge, among the top achievements of your life.

Oh, there in the forest was also the first time he’d kissed you on the cheek.)

* * *

The both of you had climbed into John’s bed. You threw opinions back and forth on how to best spend downtime when overseas, including doing touristy things, rating them based on accessibility by transport, and then rearranging the same list based on ‘how socially draining it could risk becoming’. You wondered aloud how the food culture and cuisine around Lake Geneva was going to be like, and how it might compare to your favourite European foods so far. John then brought up wanting to go to a specific restaurant.

“It’s on the French coast of the lake, quite under-the-radar but still excellent food and service I’ve heard. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while but never got the chance.” He was holding your hand and stroking the back of your palm with his thumb.

“You and the boys, with us extended family?” It charmed you that the band frequently tried to get their associated staff to spend quality time together outside of work.

A beautiful grin graced his features as he shook his head. “Um. Actually, I’m suggesting this restaurant to you because I was hoping to take you there myself. You know, just the two of us.”

You couldn’t believe that after making out with John while sitting in his lap that you still had the capacity to flush under his gaze.

“You mean, it’s a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” He met your eyes with a knowing smile for a beat, before ducking his head slightly as his smile turned bashful. “Uh, yes—I was hoping that it’d be...a date, you know, if you think that’s a good idea.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

His hand went to his chin and he stroked it absentmindedly, looking down at the bedsheets. The same man who frequently had you in an incoherent mess with his causal, understated confidence and sinfully unbuttoned shirts could still find the most unexpected times to shock you with his earnestness. (And how _dare_ anyone look so handsome when they were supposed to be looking bashful or self-conscious?)

You couldn’t help the fond laughter that escaped you. Gosh, your heart felt ready to burst. “I think it’s a great idea, and I’d be honoured for it to be a date.” 

“Oh? Well. Okay. And, um, thank you.”

Your laughter was contagious. His eyes were curved like crescent moons as he chuckled along with you, crows feet crinkling and grin widening when he caught sight of how happy and comfortable you looked.

The sheer force of fondness and affection you felt in that moment could have caused your heart to burst open.

* * *

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you consider that trek we had through Epping forest last year a date?”

A peal of laughter came from him. “I don’t know, to be honest. Depends on how you define ‘a date’, I suppose.”

“You know,” he elaborated after a beat, “it could be defined by the intention of parties involved, by the nature of the activities, by how it is perceived by others, that sort of thing.”

You again drifted off into a comfortable silence. It had just dawned on you that the reason John didn’t mind you gazing at him so openly all this while, was that he had been doing the same. That revelation made you smile so much your cheeks hurt. 

You wondered if his cheeks hurt like yours did, and if his heart was aching pleasantly like yours had been for a year.

“So, how would _you_ define a date?”

“I don’t know, actually.”

You saw him frown in mock dismay and couldn’t help your besotted giggling. “Hmm. Replying questions with, ‘I don’t know,’ is my brand, don’t go brazenly copying it, now,” he continued, pretending to sound grave.

All the laughing must have increased your bravery, because you scooted forward to place a quick peck on his smiling lips.

In your wildest fantasies, you would loose count of the number of kisses you shared with him, as it grew and grew. You had already lost track of how many kisses you had received today.

How many you have given, well, that number stands at five now. Surer than most things in life, you were certain you wanted to chase that number to infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if y’all non-ace people have the experience of having your mind in the gutter over someone, but then soon getting completely ‘sidetracked’ by softer and more fluffy thoughts. ‘Cause that shit happens to me all the time.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
